


Gentleman

by FreezingAlyce



Series: #SPNStayAtHomeChallenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: #SpnStayAtHome | SPN Stay at Home Challenge, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreezingAlyce/pseuds/FreezingAlyce
Summary: Palahniuk wrote, “The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.” And Dean's existence certainly hasn't allowed for much to go smoothly.But in a rare quiet moment of peace, sometimes things just fall into place.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: #SPNStayAtHomeChallenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720243
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantine has my days all out of whack, so we're starting on week two!
> 
> Written for [helianthus21](https://helianthus21.tumblr.com/), [pray4jensen](https://pray4jensen.tumblr.com/), and [bend-me-shape-me's](https://bend-me-shape-me.tumblr.com/post/614472314736836608/things-arent-easy-right-now-we-have-to-stay) #SPNStayAtHomeChallenge 13/04 Monday 2. Gentleman.
> 
> Cross posted to [my Tumblr](https://deepeststarfishsong.tumblr.com/post/615587703996710912/gentleman) where I put my angst and my gay-ya know, so they stay fresh. 
> 
> A huge thanks to [BeccaWoof](https://beccawoof.tumblr.com), my love, for the beta!

Nothing about today was especially unique. They had, for all intents and purposes, wrapped up a typical job without any momentous happenings. They were hunting a wendigo just outside the Wheeler County line but they’d been able to stick to the game plan more or less and no one had been seriously injured. Dean appreciated jobs like these. They could mark one in the win column and skip town without any additional feelings of guilt; no one died on their watch and they walked away without additional scars. 

Bartlett, Nebraska had been a good four hour drive each way but the warm August evenings and the rolling green farmland made for excellent driving. Dean had rolled his window down and settled into the seat, enjoying the easy pace and casual way Sam turned in the seat to discuss the case with Cas. An hour into the drive back to Sioux Falls, Dean flipped on his indicators and pulled off the 281 to fuel up the Impala and load up on coffee. 

While Dean fussed with the premium handle, arguing with the machine and its failures to read his card, Cas and Sam wandered into the station still deep in conversation about the authenticity of internet accounts of wendigo psychosis. _Nerds._

As he hung up the pump handle, Sam returned to the car, coffee in hand. “Dude, where’s mine?” Dean huffed.

“This _is_ yours,” Sam smirked at him, handing him the polystyrene cup with ‘Thanks a Latte’ printed repeatedly in awful Old English type. “I’m going to make an attempt at sleep.” Sam gestured towards the backseat. 

Dean thanked him by way of a nod, and slid back behind the wheel. “If you start drooling on my seats, I can’t be held responsible for punching you,” Dean teased. Sam grunted from the backseat, shedding his flannel and scrunching it up into some semblance of a pillow. 

Dean looked up as Cas opened the passenger door. “Unless I am mistaken, this violates Rule Three, Subsection Three of the ‘Official Rules for Shotgun,’’ Cas mused as he got in. Dean had to laugh. They’d drilled Cas on the rules of shotgun for fifty miles on the trip out and damned if he didn’t remember each of them.

“Yeah, prolly, but the giraffe clause can be superseded by the long haul exemption,” Sam chimed in from the backseat. 

“Yes, I can understand why,” Cas replied, more to his coffee than to either Dean or Sam. 

After they pulled back out onto the highway, Dean stretched in place, settling into comfortable highway driving, and leaned on the gas enough to hear Baby rev ever so slightly. “Hey Cas, want to pick a tape so we can tune out Sleeping Beauty’s snoring?” Dean’s smile reached his eyes when he looked over and caught Cas’ gaze. 

Nodding, Cas opened the glove box and began sorting through cassettes. Dean enjoyed the careful, methodical way that Cas went about mundane tasks; he picked up each tape delicately, holding it aloft to catch the handwritten title in the light of passing cars, returning it to a neat stack when he wasn’t satisfied with his option. It was a reminder of Cas’ ethereal origins, different somehow from the hurried, clumsy way Dean typically did things like this.

“This will do,” Cas said as he ejected Led Zeppelin II and replaced it with one of Dean’s old mix tapes. 

Nothing about this day was out of the ordinary. It hadn’t been particularly mundane or chaotic or exciting, but Dean could feel a sense of nostalgia washing over him. It was often the little, seemingly inconsequential moments like these that became his most cherished memories. Sam was asleep in the backseat, the soft sounds of his breathing a reassuring presence. Cas was staring out the window at the ever-darkening horizon of green patchwork farmland, nodding along to Rush’s ‘Spirit of Radio.’ They were heading home whole and successful after a job. 

And it was in that moment that Dean realized he was in love. 

The words coursed through him, sending tingles through his limbs and his heart galloping around his chest. _Love._

Dean didn’t often feel at peace; his life had made sure of that. The memories of Hell, of Purgatory, of the shit they’d seen and ganked chief among them were enough to keep even a jaded hardass like him awake at night. And then there had been the other stuff: Lisa, Ben, Bobby, Pam, Jo, Ellen, even Benny. And so, Dean relished in the rare occasion that he felt at ease.

Dean flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, loosening the joints and jumpstarting the blood flow. A few months back, he’d been staking out a vamp nest for what seemed like forever. While he waited impatiently, he’d remembered that he’d lifted a few books from the Sonoma County Library. He’d pulled one from under the seat at random, more intent to have something to fiddle with than read, but he’d gotten sucked into ‘Invisible Monsters’ pretty quick. Even once he was back at the motel, he’d ended up staying awake until daylight reading. One line had stuck with him. _“The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.”_ That sentiment struck a chord in this ever-present background noise of his self-loathing and he found himself reiterating it in his head from time to time. 

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Dean had often wondered how this electric charge between him and Cas would resolve itself. Cas was his best friend, someone who he needed and trusted, and Dean had never been in a mindset to risk losing that for a ‘what if.’ All of the pieces that came with these feelings were messy. He’d practiced bits of these talks to himself. ‘ _Would you stay?’ ‘I’m bisexual, I guess.’ ‘Please don’t leave.’ ‘I need you.’ ‘Would it be okay if I loved you?’_ Not that he’d had the nerve to risk saying them outloud. 

And yet, there were these moments that fed the butterflies Dean was doomed to carry in his ribcage. They’d always shared knowing glances, it was fifty percent of their communication. They had always been tuned to one another in a fight, on a hunt. Dean had never been certain if it was just their ‘profound bond’ forged in Hell and acuminated in Purgatory or something more. Usually, he would diffuse the tension with inappropriate humor. It was always easier to say things half in jest, all in seriousness. 

Dean glanced over at Cas again, who was still enthralled with the passing countryside. Before he could look away, Cas turned and caught his eye, a warm look of contentment written all over his face. Dean didn’t miss the whisper of a sigh or the careful uptick of Cas’ mouth when he smiled. _Love._

When Dean reached over with his right hand, setting it firmly on Cas’ thigh just above his knee, he wasn’t plagued with indecision. He wasn’t cycling though self-loathing worst-case-scenarios. It just seemed like the right time. There was something simple about this moment, this day, that gave him confidence. 

Cas let out a contented sigh, and overlaid Dean’s hand with his own, intertwining their fingers. Dean gave him a little reassuring squeeze and Cas scooted a little closer to him on the bench seat, getting comfortable. _It doesn’t have to be hard._

With his free hand, Cas fussed with the stereo, skipping the songs he clearly knew were next. Satisfied, Cas leaned back into the seat, ran his hand up the length of Dean’s arm a few times, then settled back into holding his hand against his leg while the Impala’s aging speakers played Bon Jovi and Cas hummed along. _Wo-ah, we're halfway there, Wo-ah, livin' on a prayer, Take my hand, we'll make it I swear, Wo-ah, livin' on a prayer._

\--

At a rundown Flying J at the edge of Sioux Falls, Dean circled the Impala to hang up the pump when Cas walked up behind him, arms laiden with water bottles and cans of Red Bull. Dean sidestepped to open the passenger door for Cas who rewarded him with a blushing smile. 

“You’re lucky to have such a gentleman,” mused an elderly woman at the next pump, giving Cas a huge grin. 

“Thank you,” Cas returned her smile. “Yes, I agree. I am quite fortunate.”

From the backseat, Dean could see Sam barely suppressing an overjoyed smile. _Smug bastard._ “Don’t think I didn’t see that,” he murmured. 

Sam gave up his self control, laughing audibly and gave Dean an encouraging smile. “You deserve this,” he said simply.

**Author's Note:**

> [Official Shotgun Rules](https://www.shotgunrules.com)  
> Please note Rule Four, Subsection Six "The DJ" of the Responsibilities of Shotgun has been amended: "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."
> 
> Go read some Palahniuk. It's good for you.


End file.
